XSTORIES4U: Tales of Love, Lies, and Betrayal - Book 2

Part 5 DNA Test Shatters Trust: My Husband's Brother Is the Father!

I had always trusted my husband, but when the DNA test results for our baby came back, I felt the ground vanish beneath me. My hands shook as I read the undeniable truth: my husband wasn't the father—his brother was.

The memory of that night, a drunken mistake on my birthday, came crashing back. I had been feeling neglected. My husband, always so focused on his work, had been distant for months. I was overwhelmed with loneliness, and his brother was there, offering a shoulder to cry on. One thing led to another, and we crossed a line I never imagined we would. I convinced myself it was a one-time lapse, a mistake I could bury and forget. But the truth had a way of surfacing, and now, I was staring at the undeniable proof.

Confronting my husband was the hardest thing I've ever done. His face contorted as he read the DNA results, his confusion morphing into shock and then rage. His fists clenched at his sides, and his breathing grew heavy. For a moment, he just stared at me, speechless. When he finally spoke, his voice was a cold whisper.

"Whose is it?"

I couldn't bring myself to say the words out loud. The weight of my silence was answer enough.

"My brother?" His voice cracked, a mix of anger and disbelief.

I nodded, feeling the tears burn my eyes.

Everything spiraled from there. My husband, Daniel, stormed out of the house, and hours later, he was at his brother's doorstep. The confrontation between them was ugly, filled with accusations, shouting, and finally, the horrifying truth from his brother, Ethan. He didn't deny what happened. Worse, he confessed something far more insidious—he had harbored feelings for me for years. He saw that night as his opportunity to act on them, taking advantage of my vulnerability. It wasn't a mistake for him; it was intentional.

Daniel couldn't believe it. Not only had his wife betrayed him, but his own brother had preyed on the fractures in his marriage. The family was destroyed. Daniel refused to speak to me or Ethan, cutting both of us out of his life. The devastation rippled outward—our parents were crushed, and whispers of our scandal spread like wildfire among friends and neighbors.

I stayed in the house alone with our child, overwhelmed with guilt and shame. Ethan tried to reach out several times, sending messages apologizing, but I ignored him. I wanted nothing to do with him. Every time I looked at my baby, I saw the product of that night, a constant reminder of the betrayal.

Weeks passed in a haze of misery. Daniel was gone, staying at a hotel while he figured out what to do next. I knew our marriage was over, but I held on to a sliver of hope that maybe—just maybe—he could forgive me enough for us to find some kind of closure.

Then, things took a strange turn. I started receiving cryptic messages—anonymous emails, texts from unknown numbers. They weren't direct threats, but they were unsettling. "You deserve what's coming." "Karma always catches up." I assumed it was someone from the outside, maybe a bitter friend or a family member who knew the truth. But I dismissed it as harmless spite.

One evening, I was in the nursery rocking the baby to sleep when the doorbell rang. Expecting a delivery, I opened the door without thinking, but no one was there. Just a small package on the doorstep. No return address. My heart raced as I opened it, revealing a tiny box with a USB drive inside. Confused and anxious, I plugged it into my laptop.

A video file appeared. The footage was grainy, but it was unmistakable. It was the night of my birthday—the night I had slept with Ethan. The video showed everything, including Ethan coming to my room and the intimate encounter that followed. It was filmed from the corner of the room, from a hidden camera I never knew was there.

My stomach dropped. Someone had been watching.

Panic gripped me as I realized the implications. Who had filmed this? And why were they sending it to me now? As I sat frozen, my phone buzzed with a new message: "I hope you're ready for what's next."

I didn't sleep that night. Every sound in the house made me jump, every shadow felt like it was moving. The next day, I decided to go to the police, but they said there wasn't much they could do without more evidence. The video was sent from an anonymous source, and there was no way to trace it without further investigation.

Over the next few days, the messages got worse. They weren't just directed at me anymore—they mentioned Daniel, our child, and even Ethan. Someone was watching all of us, and I was terrified they would escalate.

Then, the final blow came. One evening, Daniel called me out of the blue. His voice was calm, eerily calm, considering everything that had happened. He said he needed to meet, that there was something important he needed to show me. Desperate to try and talk things through, I agreed.

We met at a quiet café, and when he arrived, he placed a folder in front of me. I opened it to find photographs—grainy, surveillance-like pictures of me, Daniel, and Ethan. There were pictures of the three of us, but there were also recent photos of me alone, even with the baby. Someone had been following us for months.

"Who sent these?" I asked, my voice shaking.

Daniel looked at me, his eyes cold and distant. "That's the thing," he said, leaning forward. "The person behind all of this... it's Ethan. He set the camera up that night. He's been watching us, playing both sides. He wanted to destroy us."

My blood ran cold. "Why would he do that?"

Daniel's lips curled into a bitter smile. "Because this wasn't about love or lust. This was about power. He wanted to ruin me, take everything I had—my wife, my family, my life. And he's been manipulating both of us from the start."

I couldn't breathe. The betrayal was too much. Ethan had orchestrated everything—the seduction, the DNA test, even the anonymous threats. He had played us like puppets, all to satisfy some twisted sense of revenge and obsession.

As I sat there, the weight of the truth pressing down on me, I realized that the web of deceit had finally unraveled. But the pieces left behind were sharp, cutting, and irreversible.